


Countermeasures

by neverminetohold



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-20
Updated: 2012-04-20
Packaged: 2017-11-03 23:48:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverminetohold/pseuds/neverminetohold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Work seems to elude Prowl this cycle and Jazz is a miracle worker...</p>
<p>Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to HASBRO</p>
            </blockquote>





	Countermeasures

It was well after midnight and so the Ark was shrouded in darkness and silence when Prowl finally left his office. He followed the empty corridor that was sparsely lit with red emergency lights; they gleamed dull on his black and white frame. His posture was rigid, but not out of any need on Prowl's part to appear professional. He merely felt stiff from those long hours he had spent behind his desk, pouring over reports and his simulations. His recent stay in the med-bay under Ratchet's tender care had produced datapad-stacks of unknown proportions, courtesy of a series of pranks, among other things.

Prowl vented a sigh that echoed eerily along the steel walls and stifled a groan as his joints creaked in a way that sounded disturbingly close to Kup on a very bad day, back on Cybertron.

Prowl's doorwings sagged in unmasked relief as he finally reached his quarters. He considered for a nanoklick to go further and get himself his energon ration, but thought better of it; instead, he keyed his door open.

It swished shut behind him – had he locked it? - and Prowl staggered to his recharge berth, his optics already powering down.

Facing the other way, the overworked SIC was blissfully oblivious to the dark shade lurking within the corridors' shadows that watched him with an unhappy frown. Which was probably for the best, seeing as that grimace was soon replaced with a devious grin.

XXX

Prowl rebooted with the sudden awareness of a switch flipped and sighed in appreciation at the fragrance that greeted his sensors: the sweet aroma of heated energon wafted towards him from a steaming cube.

He blinked, far less surprised than one would expect, reached for it and took a sip. Soon the translucent cube was replaced on the small box-turned-nightstand, drained of its contents. The energy the liquid carried rushed through Prowl's systems with a pleasant tingle.

"Thank you, Jazz," Prowl said to no 'bot in particular, seeing as his quarters were empty.

But who else would dare to sneak up on him to hint pointedly at his under energized state? No one Prowl knew, aside from that particular special ops 'bot. Jazz always cared for him in such small ways, not to mention their teamwork on a greater scale, and saw right through the stern-officer-facade Prowl had worked to cultivate.

Prowl supposed that was a natural consequence of vorns long familiarity – on both sides.

XXX

Prowl stood in the entrance to his own office and blinked slowly, before he went so far as to reboot his optics to make sure that they didn't suffer from a severe malfunction.

"How peculiar," he commented mildly.

The sight that greeted him certainly was: his desk had been cleared of all datapads, aside from a neat little stack with urgent forms that needed Optimus' immediate attention and signature.

Prowl had double-checked everything, but the missing pads were either gone for good or neatly filed away in their corresponding cabinets. Their contents had been filled with such care for detail that they met Prowl's high standard of work ethics, which should be considered as a compliment to the unidentified culprit.

Prowl had, even without putting his battle computer to use, a certain suspicion who was behind this curious reduction of his workload. And, feeling the biting stiffness of grating parts in his backstrut, he decided that he was quite content with the arrangement. He would accept this well intended gift.

XXX

Other 'bots were not so lucky, especially where their workload was concerned. Cursing rose from a secluded section of the Ark, in a formerly abandoned storage room.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker groaned a sigh of relief and flopped down to the ground in front of the table they had worked at; finally able to relax their over strained joints, in particular those in their hands.

All around them, data-pad stacks swayed dangerously as pedes tapped closer in a cheerful staccato rhythm. Something vicious was dropped between their frames, having the twins rear back like the object might bite them.

"Cheer up! This is the last one!"

In the med-bay, Ratchet hurriedly packed his medi-kit to rush to the poor 'bots side who howled in such dismay. Of course, finding the twins he retreated on the spot, mumbling something about 'fitting punishments'.

XXX

"Prowl, you really should rest. You more than deserve a cycle off," Optimus said, signing the datapads his SIC had presented him with.

"Your concern is appreciated, sir, but unnecessary. It seems as if work is eluding me today."

"How so?"

Prowl allowed himself a little smirk. "It appears that it is one of 'those' cycles."

"Ah," Optimus nodded sagely, an expression that clashed horribly with his youngling's grin. "My sympathies to the twins."

"I would rather think of poor Wheeljack. It is quite impossible to cause a hologram to explode."

Optimus laughed before his mouth plate snapped shut with an audible clank.

"On second thought, maybe I shouldn't jinx it," the 'fearless' Autobot leader muttered with a dark frown.

"Indeed."

XXX

After that short meeting, Prowl spent the rest of the cycle in the bliss only ignorance could bring:

He finally found the time to read the novel Optimus had lend him, ignorant to the fact that all 'bots on duty tip-toed through the living quarters corridor.

He had the luck to find the rec-room empty so that he could watch the documentation about Earth before the show was canceled, ignorant to the fact that an... interesting announcement had chased everybot from the room in never-witnessed hurry.

After his return, he relaxed in his quarters without needing to run interference because of the twins incessant pranks, ignorant to the fact that recharging 'bots can't plot.

It was a pleasant cycle – everybot worked as they should, the schedules were made, no pranks, no Decepticon attacks, no explosions, no nothing.

Jazz truly was a miracle worker...

XXX

Prowl's left doorwing descended with lightning speed and whacked the servo away that had reached for it – playfully, of course.

Jazz just laughed and leaned over the couch's back to hug him. "Nice cycle?"

"Yes," Prowl said, knowing full well that his tone was enough to convey how grateful he was. He leaned back into the arms encircling him as much as they could reach. "Although I heard rumors indicating that others were less fortunate. What was it...? Oh, yes, something about a 'viscous fiend terrorizing innocents 'bots'?"

"Aw, it's good to have adoring fans."

Prowl laughed, revealing a side of himself not many 'bots ever had the chance to see.

Jazz felt the vibration under his servos and watched it up close from his leaning position and knew that this was his cycles greatest achievement. It was even more fun than torturing the twins and hassling the Ark crew in the name of good.

End


End file.
